It had been five long, long, years, but he was out of prison. Joshua Perry stood tall as he stepped out of Stateville Correctional Center. He had been ready to leave ever since he had gotten in there. But he’d been caught, he’d been tried, and he’d been found guilty. On top of that, even he could acknowledge that he had been guilty of the crimes he’d committed. He’d boosted cars, he’d helped people traffic in drugs, and he’d been a getaway driver for others. Worse still, Joshua had done all of those things in a big way and had been in charge of a large group of people who had done the same thing. In the end, it had all come crashing down around him, and he had traded that life for five years in prison. But the time that he had spent there had been...educational, to say the least. When you had little to do every day, you spent a lot of time reading, learning, and working out. You also did a lot of talking.

One of the local parishes had a mission set up where their parish priest would come through at least once a week and talk to any inmates who wanted to talk to him. The priest also brought them the Eucharist if they wanted and heard confessions. The priest, Father Benjamin Rivers, had been a big influence on Joshua to help him turn his life around. Joshua had started to read more, and try to learn what he could. In the past, he’d gotten his GED and had a few credits from a community college to his name. He was a smart guy, he always had been but he had just never applied himself. Now, he was applying himself.

Reading up on everything he could, Joshua had been guided by a man in the prison who everyone simple called the Old Man. He was there for multiple life sentences. The Old Man had never revealed to anyone what exactly had brought on the life sentences or why he was in Stateville, as opposed to a more secure facility. He’d never told joshua either. But he had given him a lot of counsel on life. The Old Man had actually known James Perry, Joshua’s father, having served time with him at one point. The two had been decent friends and seeing his friend’s son in prison with him had hurt him. So he’d done his best to help get Joshua started on a better path in life.

They’d talked, for hours. Joshua had somehow found himself transferred into the Old Man’s cell, speaking volumes on the pull that the old timer had in the Illinois Prison System. They’d discussed a number of topics such as morality, ethics, philosophy. He’d given Perry a challenge, by giving him a two word phrase and telling him to define it. Renaissance man. And then he’d given him a book, a classic that had been the starting point for the turn in character that was who Joshua was now. A well known book, one that he’d read way back in high school. Though he’d never paid attention to it then, now the pages seemed to speak about him and to his problem.

The Count of Monte Cristo.

He saw a lot of Edmund Dantes in himself and that had challenged him to become a better person. Now it was time to put everything that he’d learned into practice. Looking up, he smiled at the sun. Sure, he’d been able to see the sun and experience the sun, but not as a free man. That’s what he was now. Granted, a former felon, but that was something that he couldn’t change. All he could do was strive to become better.

Looking back down, he saw the woman coming towards him. The smile grew.

“Temp. You came.” He said, to the woman walking towards him.

His sister and he shared a big hug.

“I told you I would.” Temperance McGee said. “Every time I came to visit, I told you I’d be here today.” She said.

“That you did. Where are the girls?” He asked.

“They’re in the car.” She replied, speaking of her two daughters, Margaret and Patricia McGee, his nieces. “Ready to go home?” She asked, wiping the tears that were springing up into her eyes.

The girls had been so excited to see their Uncle Joshua. They had talked to him the entire car ride home and he had listened as best as he could. There were stories of school and plays, piano recitals and skating classes. How they packed so much into so little time, Joshua would never know. But he was happy to hear it all. Missing out on five years of his nieces’ lives had ben the one thing that had killed him the most. They were nine and ten now, he felt like he’d missed so much. The two of them were so grown up. When they’d gotten back to the house, Joshua had been forced to stay outside for a few minutes. Seeing the house that he’d grown up in after so long, it did something to a man. He hadn’t been back to this house in close to eight years and it brought back a wave of memories, a wave of emotions. This was where he had grown up, where right or wrong, his father had taught him how to be a man and how to take care of family.

Where he’d seen his mother and father fight and argue, the both of them drunk beyond belief. Family moments, both good and bad had been here and it was so much. But then little Patricia had come outside and had given him a funny look, telling him that he needed to get inside otherwise he would fall sick with the cold. With a smile, he’d swallowed the lump building in his throat and he’d walked in. There hadn’t been too many people there. Most of the people that he had called friends had left him years ago. Eve was not there, but he hadn’t been surprised by that. He’d lost contact with her after the arrest had happened.

It was a small party, but Joshua hadn’t been looking for anything big. Temperance had made his favorites though and there was a thick, good smelling Irish stew that brought back so much for him. There was colcannon as well. With all the other food, everyone was able to get what they wanted. Joshua was able to have a beer for the first time in years, and the cold liquid tasted amazing. He met up with the rest of the people who were there and he caught up, slowly, on everything that had happened with their lives. It was a good thing and he was happy to see that everyone had been moving onwards with life. He just needed to find out how he was going to do that with his own life.

Hours later, the party had wound down. Everyone had gone home and from the small backyard that they had, he could see Temp cleaning up. While he thought about going in and helping her, he had a small bundle in his lap that kind of stopped him. Asleep, in his lap, was Margaret McGee, the younger of the two little ones. He remembered when she was born, he’d held her in his arms then. Her father had skipped out on Temp and it had been for the last time, since he’d opted to leave her permanently. With the baby in his arms, Joshua had sworn to help protect and nurture that child. His mind flashed to the things that Angela Mancini had said about him during the trial. The assistant DA had said some pretty hurtful things about him.

He wasn’t a monster and he wasn’t a thug. Family came before everything else. Joshua couldn’t count on other people being there to take care of the people that he cared about, he had to do it himself. The only people in this world that were going to ensure that Margaret had everything she needed was her mother and her family. That was why Joshua had done the things that he’d done. The man wasn’t proud of his actions nor was he defending them. All he knew was that people hadn’t understood why he had done what he’d done. The only real skill that he had had to do with cars. So it had only made sense, considering what his father had been.

Temperance came out and gave him a wan smile. “Rest of the cleaning I can deal with tomorrow.”

“I’ll do it all tomorrow, when you’re at work.” He said and she smiled at that. He had never been one to like doing housework. He looked down at the child sleeping in his lap as he sat in the chair. “Gotta get her to bed, huh?” He asked. “School and all that?” He asked and his sister nodded.

“So what are your plans?” She asked as he rose, shifting so that the child was able to stay asleep. Maggie’s arms moved around his neck and she settled.

He thought of what he and the Old Man had talked about started a few weeks before he’d left. “I have something lined up.” He said and then corrected himself. “Nothing illegal, I swear. I’m done with all of that shi, I mean, stuff.” He said, having seen the look on her face. She knew what “having something lined up” meant. It was just the language that he was used to utilizing, used to speaking with. “It’s very legal, I swear, Temp.” He said.

He was definitely not used to housework. But he’d gotten it all done, because he’d promised his sister. Also, he’d helped her see the girls off to school. Now it was time for him to head out so that he could see if his plan was going to work. Dressed nicely, he was in a set of black dress pants with belt, a white dress shirt that was tucked in, and a black jacket. Nothing too fancy, but something that would work for what he was trying to do. Still not sure of the Old Man’s plan, Joshua was confident though. Never had he seen one of the Old Man’s plans fall apart. They always worked exactly how he planned them, and if they didn’t, they always seemed to work with the contingencies that he’d put into place. It was a prime example of good planning, something that the Old Man had tried to pass on to him. Joshua could only hope that it had held.

Temperance had let him have the car for the day, and he had the times that he needed to be ready to go and pick them up saved. As he drove through the streets of Chicago in the late nineties model Buick, he couldn’t help but remember the times that he had had his Camaro. That had been his baby. Black with black rims and trim, he’d perfected it with a number of after market kits and work done under the hood. That had been his prized possession, and when it had ended up slightly wrecked thanks to the police when he’d been arrested, it had hurt a lot. He’d put hours into that car, for some police officer to do a PIT maneuver on his car and take him out.

The address on the piece of paper was located in one of the nicer parts of the city. Joshua had been there a few times, but he’d never stayed that long. He’d only been driving through, on jobs and things like that. But he knew enough of the place that he could get to where he was going. His father had made him learn a lot about the streets of Chicago. It was crazy, and he didn’t know how, but he just knew how to get to anywhere from anywhere else, at least via the roads. He couldn’t do it with public transportation. But it was as though he had the roads memorized.

He just knew.

So when he pulled up to the Van Buren Research building, he was confident that this was the place, even though there was a sign telling him as such. Parking the car, he got a ticket stub from the machine. Walking to the entrance, he stepped inside, glad that he’d remembered to shave that morning. It wouldn’t do to go to a job interview looking like a slob. Stepping up to the glass door behind which the receptionist sat, he flashed his award winning, make women’s hearts melt smile. Always a killer.

“Hi there. My name is Joshua Perry, and I’m to meet with Dr. Kessler today.” He said.

The receptionist looked up and he saw the look on her face. He was attractive to the opposite sex and he knew it. He used it when he needed to, and this was one of those times. “I see.” The woman said. “I don’t have you down for any of Dr. Kessler’s appointments today, Mr, Perry.” She said.

“I know, but if you would be so kind and pick up the phone and call him and tell him that I’m here, I’m sure he’ll be willing to make a few moments for me. I’d appreciate it a lot, ma’am.” Joshua said. Growing up, everyone had always remarked on how well mannered that Perry boy had been. He flashed the smile again.

“I’ll see what I can do. Just sit down somewhere and I’ll call him.” She said and grabbed the phone.

“Much obliged.” Joshua said as he sat down in one of the chairs in the front lobby.

Less than five minutes after she’d hung up the phone, Brandon Kessler stepped out of one of the doors, with a wary smile on his face. He was an older gentleman, easily in his sixties. The two shook hands. “Mr. Perry.” The man said, his voice quiet, but the kind of voice that you knew you wanted to pay attention to.

“Dr. Kessler. Thank you for seeing me so quickly when I was unannounced.” Joshua said.

The man nodded. “Come on, let’s talk in my office.” Kessler said and waved to indicate that he should follow.

Joshua sat down in the chair that was offered to him. He was nervous there was no way to lie about it. The Old Man had put this together, but that didn't mean that something wrong could happen. He needed to be on his best behavior and make sure that he had the right answers to the questions. Leaning back in the chair, he put his most at ease smile on his face for the man across the desk from him. Kessler folded his hands together and set his hands on the table, on top of a table sized calendar that was relatively well filled with things to do and remember. The office itself was well furnished, definitely better than most of the things that Joshua was used to. All of the dark wood was nice and there was the distinct possibility that this place had been furnished with that whole feng shui thing, because it felt inviting but distant at the same time.

"You know what we do here?" Kessler asked and Joshua nodded. "Well that's good to know. The job that we're looking to fill, it's a very important one. You're not conducting the research, but you're instrumental in making sure that all of the work can happen. Custodial services is something that a lot of people overlook and look down upon, but we don't do that here." The older man said with a smile. The horn rim glasses fit his face, and the balding white hair was combed back, possibly with gel of some kind.

Joshua nodded. "I can understand that, sir. I’m just happy to be given an opportunity.” He said, being truthful.

“Well, you’re going to have to pull your weight here. We don’t give out free passes to people to be lazy. Now, there are actually a number of people who wished to look for this job. Times are hard and the economy isn’t getting that much better any time sooner. The pay is actually quite good, because of the nature of our work. So when our mutual friend called and put in a good word for you, that means a lot. He doesn’t do that that often.” Kessler said, and Joshua realized that the was talking about the Old Man.

“I can appreciate that.”

“The fact that he did that says, at least to me, that you’re a trustworthy person, someone who’s going to be a hard worker and a good worker. I’m telling you this honestly, I had someone with two Bachelor’s degrees apply for this job. You’ve got a couple hours of community college behind you, and you’re a convicted felon. I’m not just trusting you, I’m trusting him. Don’t let me down, Mr. Perry.”

“I won’t, Dr. Kessler. So I have the job?” He asked.

Brandon Kessler nodded and then extended his hand for Joshua to shake. “You have the job. You’ll start the day after tomorrow, and we’ll get you trained soon enough. I’ve given a list of the pertinent documents that you’ll need to have with you to Lucy, the receptionist that you met earlier. Just make sure you have all of those things with you and we’ll be able to get this whole thing kicked off without a problem.” He said. “I’m one of the key researchers and I’m not a fan of the administrative side of things. The less problems that I have to deal with, the better and that’s what I’m looking for in an employee.”

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate it a lot.” Joshua said with a big smile, shaking the man’s hand. “I won’t let you down.” He added, as he rose.

The dirty water emptied out of the bucket and sloshed in the sink. It was the third bucket that he’d disposed of, but Joshua didn’t mind. He’d been working at Van Buren Research for a few days, and the work was a bit tedious, but nothing that he couldn’t handle. After all, Joshua had done a lot of cleaning during the past five years. Custodial services was nothing new to a recently released prisoner of the state. As a matter of fact, Joshua kind of liked it. Especially sweeping and mopping. You could see the cleaning that was being done, and you could see your results. It was far different from what he had been used to, boosting cars and running a chop shop. A totally different life, he was trying to go straight. Doing his damnedest as it was. He would do it, no matter how hard it was. Joshua owed it to his family and he owed it to himself.

He’d met a few of the research scientists though the majority of the people that he’d met had had to do with the behind the scenes work of the research institute. Not to be mean, but they were the ones that he really cared about, because they were the ones who were going to be the people he interacted with on a day to day basis. Joshua wanted to make sure that no one was going to treat him differently or unjustly. People giving him a cold shoulder because he was a former convict and a rather famous one at that was something that he had known would happen and had already prepared himself for. But he wouldn’t tolerate people treating him unfairly because he had been a convict.

There was something to be said about paying one’s debt to society. He’d done his time. Now it was time to move on.

There was one researcher that he’d been able to get to know better. Brandon Kessler had made sure to talk to Joshua at least once a day and the two were slowly building a good rapport. The other man was the person who was in charge of the place, and he knew the Old Man. How exactly, he wouldn’t reveal, and Joshua was chalking up more and more to the overall control and power of that man he’d met in prison. Why he was still in prison didn’t make sense to Joshua considering how much he was able to do, the power that he could wield. But maybe that was part of everything that the Old Man was working on. Maybe that was where he had the power, in the prison cell. It made sense, all things considered. The work that he did, it was definitely easier to do from the safety of a prison cell. It was an interesting way to look at things. Prison as a source of safety. That wasn’t something that he would have considered before he met the Old Man.

Regardless of the Old Man’s methods, he got results. Like Kessler for example. The Van Buren Research Buidling was a collective of different scientists and researchers from a number of different disciplines and schools of thought, brought together to conduct studies and to blaze trails in their respective fields. They collaborated and worked together as a group, each bringing a different perspective to the table. Currently they were working on radiation experiments. Apparently one of them had worked with a guy named Lucas Gates in the past and that guy was the authority when it came to Gamma Radiation and a number of other things in physics. The focus of what they were working on was radiation the various things that could be done with it and the various things that could be done to protect people from it.

Everyone remembered what had happened in Japan recently with the nuclear meltdown. They wanted to find a way to better help people if something like that were to happen again. Joshua wasn’t a scientist, not by far. He’d barely completed a few classes at one of Chicago’s community college’s. But he could understand the idea behind helping people and wanting to do something for them. That much he could agree with.

It kind of brought a smile to his face in a way. He felt that he was part of something that was working towards something positive, something good. He was on his way home after a long day and he was looking forward to having a bit of time to relax.

oshua Perry sat down with a sigh. He was tired. But that was something that came with the job that he was doing. He had known that there would be days like this and he was more than ready to accept them. Sitting down, he reached into the blue zippered lunch box that he'd brought from home. There was a simple sandwich, a can of soda, a bag of chips, and an orange. Everything a working body needed, sort of. Lifting the turkey and and swiss on wheat out of the lunch box, his eyes picked up on a folded piece of paper that was in the lunch box. Frowning, he reached forward to pick it up. Unfolding it, Joshua's eyes changed as he read the message that had been left for him by his two nieces. They had drawn a picture of him standing outside of the house and the two of them. All three were flying kites, an activity that they had been conducting only a few days ago. It meant a lot to him that they had done this for him. Looking at the card, he shook his head, a bemused smile on his face.

"You have kids?"

He looked up at the voice that had spoken as he shook his head.

"No." Joshua said to Kessler. "They're my sisters, two nieces."

Kessler nodded. "Nice. I was wondering if I could have a minute or two of your time, Joshua." He said.

The other man shrugged. "You're the boss. Is there something wrong, Mr. Kessler?" He asked, a little wary. It had been about four months now that he had been working at the Van Buren Research building. So far he hadn't received any complaints about his work or how he had been conducting himself. Nothing to lead him to believe that anything was wrong. But that didn't mean that there wasn't anything wrong, just that appearances were that everything was alright. If there was anything that Joshua Perry had learned after his time in prison, it was that appearances could be very misleading. After all, he had trusted the wrong people and that had landed him in jail for years. The Old Man was a prime example of misleading appearances. He gave the appearance of nothing more than a simple inmate, but the truth was far, far, from that. So Joshua could understand people hiding their true feelings. After all, not everyone was happy or comfortable with working every day with a convicted felon.

"Nothing's wrong." Kessler said with a grin. "You're not in trouble, Joshua." He said, and sat down. They were alone in the break room, and Joshua had to wonder what all of this was about. "I wanted to talk to you about the Old Man." He said, and that simple sentence opened up a veritable hornet's nest of thoughts in Joshua's mind. What did that mean, and what did he want to talk about in reference to the Old Man? "He told you to come to me in order to get a job, but you have to be wondering why, right? Well, the easy answer is that it was a job for you. The more complex answer is that it was a test."

"A test?"

"Yes." Kessler replied. "You see, the Old Man sent me a message saying that you were a very bright and promising person, and that there was a great future ahead of you, if you were willing to take it. He figured that he would give you that chance. You know how he thinks. Anyway, this job was to test your willingness to follow everything that you learned while in prison. All of the books that you read, all of the philosophers and thinkers that you studied." Kessler said. "It was all detailed to me, and I was given the task to watch you and see what kind of man you have become."

"Well, that's a little...creepy. Kind of." Joshua said, with a shrug. The whole thing was rather mind blowing. That all of this had been a test? Incredible. He was a little angry, a little shocked, but most of all he was intrigued. Intrigued by what this meant and what this was going to allow him to do. "So what does this all mean?" He asked.

"It means that you now have full access to the Old Man's network of information and contacts. You wanted to go back to school, to get your degree? Paid for. I've already sent a letter to the dean of admissions at the University of Chicago. Whatever degree you want to pursue, it's yours to go after. A steady source of money to cover your living expenses? Taken care of. There's a Citibank account set up in your name that will receive a monthly deposit of five thousands dollars."

"Five thousand dollars?" He asked in disbelief.

"A month." Kessler said. The man leaned back in his chair and smiled at the look that was on the face of Joshua Perry. "You've earned it. You've made a commitment to changing and following what you've learned and becoming a better person." He said with a small smile.

Perry was dumbfounded by the information that just been presented to him. It was pretty heavy stuff for him to digest all at once. "I..I understand. I think. I mean, it's all very complicated and, I can't believe it, not really." He ran a hand through his hair and then left it on his forehead, staring at the table in front of him. "The Old Man, he said that something would happen if I proved that I was committed, but this, this is more than I thought he meant. I didn't think that he had connections like this. I...I don't know what to say."

"It's complicated, Temp. Everything I told you is true, the whole story. I just need to figure out how I'm going to do this all." He said, looking at her from his place at the dinner table in the house. She was leaning against one of the kitchen counters, her arms folded over her chest as she looked at him, disbelief and confusion on her face as she did so. He could understand

"You said nothing illegal. This seems pretty illegal. He's in prison, that means he did something wrong, got caught, and got put in jail. Come on, Jacob, how can you trust him?" She asked and then was immediately sorry when she said that. Temperance saw the look on her brothers face. It made sense. The same thing that she had just said could very easily apply to him as well. It was a low blow and she knew it. Instantly apologetic, she spoke again. "I'm sorry. I just, I don't want you to make the same mistakes that you made in the past. It just seems wrong, that's all."

"I know, Temp. I promise you though that it's not the case. I've kept up with every meeting that I've had to go with, every drug test, everything. I'm not doing nor am I going to do anything illegal. Why would I want to hurt you or the girls?" He asked and she knew that he had a point there. Her brother was a changed man, and he would never do anything that would intentionally jeopardize his two nieces, that much she was sure of. Temperance knew that she needed to trust him if he was going to be able to better his life.

In the end, she just nodded slowly. What else was there to do, what other options were there? This was something that he was going to do, for all she knew it was something that he needed to do. She couldn’t get in the way of that. “I understand.” She said. “What do you need from me?” Temperance added after a moment and then she saw the look change on his face. What had been sadness and anger at her words before changed into something else. Gratitude and hope. He had expected her to fight him on this until the bitter end and the fact that she was okay with it and asking him what he needed from her, well that was a big step forward between the two of them, and it was very big of her. He knew this and he was finding it hard to believe. “Jake, if this is going to be good for you, then I want you to do it. Please be careful. If you need anything from me, you know I’m here for you.” She said.

“I understand.” Jacob said, rising. He took his sister’s hands into his. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me since I got locked up and even more so when I got out. You have no idea how grateful I am. I’m doing this for you and for the girls and I’m doing it for me.” He left her there, in the kitchen, because he had work to do and things to look into.

The University of Chicago had a great number of programs and he had to pick what it was that he wanted to go into. There were so many choices and Jacob felt as though he had only so little of time. Things were finally looking up for him, and he was planning on taking advantage of the opportunity that fate had put into his path. Furthermore, he was going to make the most of it. That was for sure.

That was something new, something that he wasn’t used to. But there he was, sitting at the table, his face looking down at the book. It had been many years since he had ever bothered with doing homework, but now it was one of the most important things in his life. Things changed when your priorities shifted, when you started acting like a grown up, a responsible adult, whatever that meant. It meant not going out on a saturday and partying or drinking till the early hours of the morning. It meant pens and paper, calculators and books. And ensuring that there were no distractions. Joshua had been working on the homework for the past few hours and he knew that he was finally getting close to being done. It was later in the evening, and it was close to his two nieces’ bed time. He knew that he was going to have to take a break shortly. Ever since he’d gotten home, Margaret and Patricia had taken to begging him to tuck them in at night, despite the fact that they were nine and ten. They’d simply missed their uncle.

Nothing made him happier than putting a smile on those two’s faces. He’d do anything for them. If tucking them in at night made them happy and feel better, then that was what he'd do. Joshua felt as though he owed them so much more after being away, in prison, for five years. Reaching out, his hand grasped the glass of water and he brought it up and took a sip. As he set the glass down, he turned, at the sound of a noise. Maggie, the older of the two, was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, holding one of her toys. She was staring at him with a confused smile on her face. “Whatcha doing, Uncle Josh?” She asked.

“Homework, little tyke.” He said, reaching a hand out.

She walked over and was pulled into a hug. Then she gave him a look of smug but also innocent superiority that only a child could effectively pull off. “I’m done with my homework. I finished on Friday night so I could play today. Why aren’t you done with yours?”

“Grown up homework takes longer to do sometimes.” He said and then he smiled at her response, sticking her tongue out. He ruffled her hair as she spoke.

“You mean it’s going to get longer and longer? Eww. I don’t want to do homework.” She said and shook her head. This drew a laugh from her uncle.

“Well you’re going to have to. Grown up homework is important. You have to do your homework because you’re going to be someone important and really successful one day. Make me and your mom and everyone proud. Be a doctor or something like that, you know?” He said. “You’re going to get out of here and do great things, I know it, Maggie.”

“You should take a break. Breaks are good.”

“Oh?” He asked, with a wry grin. He knew where this was going. “Should I?” He asked as he let himself be pulled up out of the chair, Maggie using both of her hands to do it. She grabbed her toy again, that she’d put on the table and then fit one of her tiny hands into one of his much larger ones and started dragging him out of the kitchen. “What should I do on this break?”

“Mommy says it’s bed time.”

“Oh that’s just unfair.”

“I know. Patty wants you to tuck us in. She’s a baby.” Maggie said with the wise knowledge and experience of being an older sister by one year. “She said you have to.”

He couldn’t sleep. It was close to one in the morning, and he’d finished his work, but he just hadn’t been able to get to bed. Tossing and turning, Joshua knew that he needed to do something in order to get himself to bed, but he didn’t know what it was, what he needed to do. Rising from his bed, he changed, throwing on a pair of jeans and grabbing his leather jacket. Stepping out into the chilly Chicago night air, Joshua headed to his car. It was nothing fancy, just a manual Mustang that he’d bought used. Sliding behind the wheel, he started the car up, figuring that a drive would do him some good. He always thought better behind the wheel of a car, but there was good reason for that. Cars were an intimate part of his life. His father had been a wheelman and a car thief and he’d passed those skills on to his son. There was very little within the realms of physics that Joshua couldn’t instinctively make a car do, and once or twice, he’d challenged the laws of physics.

Joshua had won every time.

As he drove, he thought. He thought about everything that had happened to him in the past few months. Released from prison, restarting his life, getting everything back on track. Moving back in with his sister, getting a job that was approved of by the government and didn’t have a lot, if anything to do with anything illegal. All of that was good. But for some reason he felt as though he was drifting. Just moving through the thing that was called life. Going through the motions. There was no reason why he felt that way, and there was no discernible cause, at least none that he could find. Maybe it was because he was stupid. He knew he was smart, but at the same time, Joshua knew that he wasn’t. The people that he worked for, they were smart. The researchers in the Van Buren building, they were something special.

He was just an average guy from the streets, who had an above average IQ, but who had used it for wrong instead of right. Now he was trying to pay for his sins, and get right with God or society or whoever. There was a burning desire in him for redemption. The problem was, that he didn’t know who he was trying to be good for. Was it for Temp? For Maggie and Patty? Maybe. Was it for the people that he passed by every day on his way to work, the run of the mill Chicagoan who cared little for who he was, and what he had used to be? Maybe. Was it for the shadowy person who had put this all in motion? The Old Man? That was doubtful. But maybe the Old Man, who in five years had been more of a father figure for him, than James Perry, maybe he was the one that Joshua was doing this all for.

No matter who he was doing it for, he knew that he was doing it for someone, for something. That moment, that moment when he knew that he’d bettered himself, that he had become something more than he had been in the past. When that moment was going to happen, he didn’t know. What it would feel like, he didn’t know that either. But he knew that the high that it would give him, it would be better than any high he’d ever had, natural or chemical.

Maybe it was fate then, that when he finally realized where he was driving to, he shook his head. Old habits, they had a tendency to die hard. Here he was, in the same part of the city that he’d used to run around in during his hey day. Street races, and what not, a lot of illegal activities took place here in this part of Chicago. These streets had been Joshua Perry and his gang’s old stomping grounds.

Nothing had changed. As he continued to drive, he found that out soon enough.

The car pulled into a lot by a warehouse. There was music playing in the area, and a large group of people moving about as well. It was an underground car show. People showed off their cars and the after market kits that they’d installed. Some of the people set up races and they had a whole circuit going through. This had been one of his group’s more popular hangouts and he remembered the number of parties that had been here. Some of them he remembered with fondness. While the times had been great and the people interesting to talk to, he was definitely past all of that now. Thoughts of Eve made the smile that had come to his face, unbidden, die down somewhat. Easily he could remember the times that he had been here with his now ex-girlfriend who had been a member of his crew. They had been together through it all, and it had seemed that they would be that way forever. He’d known that there were some problems, they both abused alcohol, but he hadn’t thought that it would be anything that would drive them apart.

No, what had driven them apart was the fact that he had gotten pinched and had gotten caught. Joshua hadn’t seen her since that night and he doubted that he’d see her here tonight. She hadn’t even shown up to the arraignment for God’s sake. Pushing his mind away from that road, he tried to figure out something that was nagging him, something in the back of his mind. This scene, the illegal car racing and smuggling thing, it was over for him. He was trying to get his life back on track and the last thing that he was going to concern himself was getting back into this old crowd. It was done for him, five years in prison had cured him of that one.

At least, he’d thought that it had been. So why was he here. Why had he come back here? Was it just that he was used to it? Habit, memory? He’d started every morning, during the five years that he’d been in prison, with a series of stretches, and then pushups and situps and he still did that now, so was it that? He didn’t know, but he wasn’t sure that he wanted to find out.

His mind flicked back to what his grandmother would have said on the subject. Bad blood. But that wasn’t the case. Joshua knew who he was, the son of a car thief and a good for nothing piece of shit. But that wasn’t who he was going to be. The blood that was in him didn’t dictate who he could be, who he could strive to be.

Joshua had the window down and he was about to leave, to find somewhere else to be, when he heard a familiar voice say a familiar name.

“Joshua Perry, God damn, it’s you.”

He looked out of the window to see a man walking towards him. Inside, he grimaced, but on the outside, he put a smile on his face.

“Greg, it’s been a while.” He said as the other reached his car, and bent over to peer inside.

“A while? Shit, it’s been five years and change man. When did you get out?” Gregory Wells asked with a smile on his face. “Couple months ago, probably, doesn’t matter. Look, what are you up to? Me and some of the boys are having a bit of a party and we’d love to have to stop by. Catch up on the old times man, have a brew or two. You know, come on.”

“Then why are you here?” Gregory asked, more than a little curious about just what was going on.

“I was just going out for a drive. Old habits die hard, I guess.”

“You should at least come through for a little while. A lot of the old people will be glad to see you. I know prison does things, changes people. But you did have friends, you know.” “Friends. Right.” Joshua said. “None of you ever visited, called, or wrote. None of you were even at the trial. What friends are we talking about here?” He asked.

The other man fell silent at that, and Joshua knew that he’d made his point. “I’m not saying that we didn’t let you down, but give me a chance to make it up to you.” Greg said with a small smile. “At least, let me try.”

And there, Greg had a point. If he was going to be forgiving, he had to give some of his friends a chance to make up for their past mistakes. Isn’t that what he was trying to do with the rest of the world and with his family? He owed it to them to give them the chance. He nodded slowly. “You’ve got a point, Greg.” He said and his friend’s smile grew. “It can’t hurt, to spend some time with friends.”

“That’s the spirit. Here’s the address.”

The drive there wasn't that long or bad. The entire way there, Joshua wondered if he was doing the right thing. he knew that he needed to give them a chance, but at the same time, he didn't want to. Maybe that was wrong, maybe it was selfish, but he felt that they'd had their chance, that they'd had five years worth of chances. And none of them had bothered to look him up when he'd gotten out of prison either. Anger coursed through him, as he parked his car and started the walk up towards the apartment building who's address he'd been given. At the same time, he just tried to remain wary. He knew what these parties could turn into and he knew what happened here a lot of the time. Nothing that he was really interested in. Joshua Perry kept his nose clean now.

As parties went, it was a pretty good one. That much he had to give him. There were a number of people, no more than thirty though. A decent sized group and there was plenty of alcohol for everyone. Joshua accepted a drink rather soon into his time at the party and within a little while, he found himself three beers in. The music was good, nothing too overpowering. He was seated on one of the couches in the apartment, talking to a few people. Everyone who had known him in the past had come through and had wanted to say a few things or ask him a few questions. He hadn’t minded, though explaining over and over again some of the cursory questions about prison life, which were almost always the same, got tiring.

He’d heard a variation of a drop the soap joke about four or five times now, and it was starting to get annoying.

Joshua had been there for almost an hour when he’d decided to leave, but that was when he found his attention grabbed.

He looked out at the course that they had marked up. It was a pretty decent course, about two miles of road. They’d blocked off enough to make sure that there wouldn’t be any stray traffic and at this early in the morning, he doubted that there would be enough casual drivers for anything to happen. He knew one of the racers, he had raced against the man before. A good driver, though one of his drawbacks had always been the cars that he’d used. The mechanics behind them had never been top notch and the parts and after market kits that he’d used weren’t good choices. A lot of that had to do with the amount of money that he’d had available to put into the car, which was something that Joshua could understand.

The other racer was someone new, or at least, it was someone new to him. He didn’t know who the man was, but it was a Hispanic guy who looked like he was in his early twenties. Leaning against doorway to the apartment, Joshua sipped at his beer. The race was going to start soon and he wanted to see what parts of it he could. This wasn’t any real kind of race, so they would only be able to see the starting line and the finish line, which were one and the same.

A few minutes later, the Dodge Charger and the Ford Mustang were off. The Charger had taken the lead and had secured it by the time they made the first turn. The crowd was still cheering fairly loudly even after the cars were out of sight.

“You didn’t tell me that there were going to be any races.” Joshua said, when he found Greg again. The other man gave him a sly smile and then a shrug.

“I figured you probably wouldn’t have come if I told you that there were going to be races.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t have.” Joshua said.

“I know what you’re thinking. Why would the cops not be all over this, we’re not exactly doing this in a non public place. But things have changed in the past five years, bro. The Latin Disciples take care of that for us.” He said.

“The who?” Joshua asked, turning and frowning as he looked at Greg.

“The Latin Disciples. They’re a gang that moved in to Chicago and took over a large part of the streets. They run a lot of the city, man.” Greg said. “They help us stay away from the cops and a lot of the racers work for them as drivers. We took what you started and built it into something bigger.” He said. “That was one of the reasons why I asked you to come to the party. The guy driving the Charger, he’s a mid level guy. I want you to meet him.”

Joshua’s eyes narrowed.

“No, absolutely not. I told you already that I’m not doing that kind of shit anymore.”

“I know. I know what you said. But you’re Josh Perry.” He said. “You’re the son of James Perry. It’s in your blood, man. What the hell else are you going to do with your life?” He asked, the last part more vocal as Joshua was walking away and towards his car. “You’re one of us, no matter how hard you try to run and be clean. You always will be.”

“You’re one of us, no matter how hard you try to run and be clean. You always will be.”

The words had haunted Joshua for the past two weeks. They’d popped up when he’d least expected it and had then proceeded to stick with him for a few hours until something or someone managed to distract him long enough for him to forget for a while. Powerful words, things that shook him a great deal. He’d spent more than a little bit of time over the past two weeks thinking about what Greg had said. Part of what Greg had said was the truth. He was who he was in this world. But part of it had been false. He could change. Joshua was trying to change.

There were parts of him that did things still that he couldn’t help. Every day when he got to work, he had a habit of looking over the cars in the parking lot and thinking about the money that he could get if he boosted them, as well as how he’d go about boosting them.

Despite the fact that he wouldn’t do it, the fact that he unconsciously thought about it bothered him to a degree. Joshua was still kind of jumpy around the security guards that worked in the building, despite having worked at the Van Buren building for a good number of months now. Even though he tried not to be, the gut reaction was something that was built into Perry now after years of the life that he’d led. Fighting it was hard and it was a daily struggle. Made harder when he was reminded of the words that Greg had said.

No matter what the other man had said, however, he could change who he was. Anyone could rise above who they had been and become a new person. That was what the Old Man had taught him, that was what all the books that he had read while at the Statesville Correctional Facility had taught him. Man was was product of his environment yes, but man possessed the ability to alter that which he did not like of himself. One of the best books that he had ever read had been a biography of the Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius. Contained within had been a number of quotes that Joshua had been reminding himself off during the course of the past two weeks.

He blinked away sleep as he sat in one of the break rooms of the Van Buren building. There was a performance review coming up and Joshua had to have a sit down with Dr. Kessler. Checking his watch, he saw that his appointment was coming up and he rose, heading out of the room and towards Kessler’s office.

The doctor had been nothing but good to him in his time at the Van Buren building, and Joshua wanted to make sure that the other man had his thanks. While yes, the doctor was working with the Old Man and he was listening to the Old Man, he still deserved Joshua’s thanks. The experience of working at the Van Buren building could have been bad even with Dr. Kessler’s support, but it hadn’t, and that was something that Joshua definitely wanted to mention.

He was at the door of the office, when he heard raised voices coming from within. Stopping short, he couldn’t help but overhear the conversation inside.

He heard the voice and it took him a moment to place it. It belonged to one of the lead scientists that was working on radiation based experiments. One of the most protected areas of the Van Buren building, Joshua had to wear a radiation suit whenever he was in there to make sure that he wasn’t affected by anything that was inside of the wing. He hated that part of the place the most, since it required the most work just to get in and out of it. The research team that was there didn’t speak to him much and they didn’t bother him when he was making his rounds, so he didn’t mind that part of it too much. That was how he liked most of his work at the Van Buren building. Quiet. At the same time, Joshua was learning a lot about science, just by overhearing conversations and seeing images up on the monitor.

“What do you mean? You’re two weeks past the deadline.”

“It’s not that, the test subjects aren’t responding to the treatment the way that we’d anticipated. Dr. Kessler, you have to understand that-”

“Anthony, what I do understand, is that I am upset that you haven’t delivered on your promises in the timely manner that you promised. I’m upset for two reasons. One, as a man of science, I know you’re frustrated and I have been in your position before. So for that reason, I am upset. Two, as a business man, as a man in charge of the finances for the Van Buren building, I’m concerned that we’ve poured over eight and a half million dollars into this project and we have nothing to show for it.”

“That’s not true. We’ve made progress, we’re just not ready yet for phase five.” The other man said, and with the name, Joshua was able to remember the face. Anthony Pappas, one of the lead researchers of the building. The man in charge of the radiation section.

Joshua took a few steps back as the voices neared him, just to be on the safe side. The last thing he wanted to do was appear that he was doing something wrong when it came to his behavior.

The door opened.

“...Look, Anthony, I’m not asking you to work miracles, but this is a sizable amount of money that we’re talking about. You’re a gifted researcher and a talented scientist. But you’re not Lucas Gates or Paul Matthews. They can afford to use the money that they use, because they consistently produce the results that they do.” Kessler said. “We’ll talk about this later.” He added, when he saw Joshua standing there, waiting to be invited in.

Anthony just nodded, forlorn, and made his way back to his research section.

The other man smiled as he shut the door and gestured to one of the chairs in front of the desk. As Joshua sat down, he walked around and dropped into his own chair. “Hell of a morning, I tell you.” He said. “We had to let a few people go this morning.”

“I hope that’s not what this conversation is going to turn into.” Joshua said, with an uneasy smile.

Kessler paused for a moment, and then he realized what Joshua meant. “Oh, no not at all.” He said with a laugh. “No, you are most certainly not being fired. When you first started there were a few people who I think you rubbed the wrong way, but that’s been straightened out, don’t you worry about it. I think it’s because you’re a very quiet person.” He said.

Joshua just nodded.

“From everything I’ve heard, it’s fairly positive.” He said. “Actually this is one of the easiest performance reviews I’ve ever had to have.” The man added, gesturing expansively with his arms. “Honest, I swear.”

“Well that’s great.” Joshua replied, feeling rather relieved. There had been a deal of anxiety going into the meeting. He hadn’t been certain how the performance review was going to go, but so far it was okay. Truth be told, he wanted to be out of the office and back at his work, but he knew that it was just something that had to happen. It was like the schedule on the yard. There were things that you didn’t want to do, but that had to happen. No avoiding it.

“I think that it’s. I had scheduled this meeting for at most fifteen minutes. Is there anything that you wanted to talk about?” Kessler asked.

“No, sir. I’ve been having a great time here so far and everyone’s made me feel very welcome and part of the family.” Joshua said with a smile. “Will that be all?” He asked.

Kessler nodded and the two rose, shaking hands. Joshua was almost out of the door, when Kessler spoke, stopping him.

“Listen, we have a pretty big experiment scheduled in two days’ time. It’s in the radiation wing. I know it’s a bitch to deal with sometimes, but would you be willing to come in after the experiment and make sure that everything is in order? We’re doing a display for another experiment in that wing the day after and I’d like everything to be presentable. You’re the one of the best that I have, Joshua.”

“That wouldn’t be a problem at all.” Joshua said with a smile. “What time?” He asked.

It was late night in the Van Buren building. After ten, and almost everyone was gone. The people that were left were concentrated in one place, the specialized section where the experiment was going to take place. Joshua was close by, working in another section. The industrial strength vacuum cleaner was hard at work, and he navigated it through the offices with a practiced ease that came after months of working the same place over and over. His mind wasn’t on the work that he was doing currently, it was on the work that he still had to do. The ethics paper that he had to write was currently kicking his ass, and he was trying to finish it as best as he could. But there were difficulties in writing such a paper. There were difficulties in being in that class. A freshman class, the topics that they discussed were in depth, due to the professor feeling that they needed to tackle such topics despite the majority of the class being under the legal age to drink. For Joshua, this made things a bit more complicated, as he was more than a few years older than the even the oldest of his so called peers.

He had a bevy of life experiences that few of these kids had. So when they discussed hard hitting topics, such as prison sentences and things of that nature, he couldn’t help but be on a different side of the fence than his compatriots. Many of them were very conservative, coming down harshly on those who had committed crimes. The ones that weren’t had a tendency to be bleeding heart liberals and want everyone to not had to deal with prison terms. Joshua himself fell in between the cracks.

The moment he’d realized that he was in favor of hard prison terms had come as a bit of a shock. Considering his past as an inmate at the Stateville Correctional Center, he had been surprised when he had said the words out loud in class. The difference between his position and those of the crazy conservatives was that he was malleable. Joshua was in favor of more leniency and more understanding on the side of the courts. Putting people in prison without actual rehabilitation didn’t help them or society, it just created hardened criminals who had more knowledge on how to commit the crimes and more associates with which to commit those crimes with.

But some people didn’t see it that way and they were entitled to their opinion. The rallying cry of “You did the crime, now do the time,” was one that he partially agreed with. It didn’t usually have many supporting arguments with these kids, other than a myriad of euphemisms and cliche phrases and sayings. That was what bothered him. These were the next generation of kids, they were the ones who were supposed to lead the world into the future, and he didn’t feel comfortable with the way their mentalities were. A systematic shift away from fundamental values. Not necessarily ones handed down by a church or religious institution, but these kids had a very live in the moment mentality juxtaposed by a hardline reaction to crimes.

Without understand the problems inherent in the areas that created a lot of these criminals and the things that were needed to be done to help fix them. Yes, the guy robbing the liquor store or the pawn shop, he was committing a crime, and he deserved to be punished. At the same time, one needed to understand the why in order to understand the how to rehabilitate him, properly punish him, and prepare society to welcome him back. That was the disconnect.

These kids didn’t care.

Writing the paper was hard, because the professor was planning on having those with the two highest grades on each side of the fence argue their case in front of the class. The last thing that Joshua wanted to do was to stand up in front of this class and had to read his words and explain them further, while also defending his position from counter arguments.

Joshua’s footsteps were quiet on the carpeted floor, he made barely a single sound as he moved. He was in the radiation department, moving through the rooms as quickly as he could. The experiment was in it’s beginning stages, and he would wait until after it was over until he would take care of those rooms. No sense in cleaning something that was going to get dirty again so soon after. His movements were quick and practiced. He could hear the machines humming in the distance and every few minutes, there was a slight flicker in the lights as they drew on more electricity and energy from the building’s power grid. All that money that Kessler had been talking about in that meeting with the head researcher. In the end, Joshua knew that he would end up being in the Van Buren building for a few more hours before he could head home. There was an English assignment that he had to finish, but it wasn’t something that would take up too much of his time.

His bed was calling, and he really wanted to answer.

Joshua didn’t even notice at first the subtle change. The temperature started dropping. Instead he just pulled his light blue jacket tighter around himself. The intervals between the electricity flickers slowed down, until it wasn’t there at all. That got no reaction from him at all. What finally got his attention was the fact that when he turned his cleaning machine off, the there was no hum in the distance from the machines being used in the radiation experiment. Checking his watch, he decided that that was weird.

It was only a few minutes after when the experiment was supposed to start. Why would they have turned everything off so soon into the time that had been set aside for them? There was no way that they would have been finished so soon. Unless there had been a problem, in which case they were done for the night and Joshua could get a jumpstart on what he needed to do.

Leaving his machine, he started wandering through the radiation department. The building wasn’t that large, and it didn’t take him that long to get to the rooms. Opening one of the doors, he entered into the main office section. Cubicles, filled with computers, paperwork and personal effects. But there was no one there. Heading over to the door that would lead him to the main laboratory section, Joshua opened the door.

His eyes widened. The scientists were all on the floor, seemingly dead or unconscious. There were men, in black outfits in the room. He didn’t know what the hell was going on, but obviously this could not be what was supposed to be happening.

“What the hell?” He said, not even realizing that he was speaking. Joshua cursed himself right after he said it, because he knew better. Speaking was the first thing that gave you away, especially when you were dealing with professionals. From the weapons that some of them carried, it was obvious that they were just that, professional.

“Knock him out.” A voice said. Muffled, but heavy. Even if it hadn’t been said with that tone of voice, it sounded menacing. Ominous.

They moved towards him. He tensed, preparing for the worst. He had learned a good bit of hand of hand fighting when he had been in prison, but Joshua didn’t know how much good it would do him. Nothing it appeared, as a taser appeared out of nowhere, the two electrical nodes flying out and finding purchase.

Joshua groaned as he slowly came to. Blinking his eyes opened, he found that the world was blurry and that he really felt like puking. Crawling around on the ground, he saw, well, he didn’t know what he saw. That had been a hard shot to the head. The pain was tremendous and he kept blinking and shaking his head, trying to clear his vision and quiet the nausea that was moving through him. As he tried to stand, he pieced together from his memory what had happened. He’d walked in and there had been men in tactical gear in the room. They’d been doing something. The scientists had been lying on the ground, unconscious, possibly dead. Then they’d attacked him. Looking around, he saw that the bodies were all still there. Checking the pulse on one of the scientists, he saw that the man was indeed, dead.

On some of the others, the bullet holes made it not necessary to check. Suddenly, he started dry heaving, and then the bile came up and out of him. He’d seen dead people before. But this was different. Something was wrong, with him, but he didn’t know what it was, and his head kept pounding, the headache killing his insides.

He tried to remember what it was that the scientists had been working on. Radiation and the like. The experiments had been on different animals, and the testing had been rather controversial. Joshua hadn’t cared about that sort of thing, because it didn’t concern him, and it paid his bills. Now, he cared deeply about just what the hell had been going on. People had died, and he had been attacked because of it. Now he had to get to the bottom of this. Stumbling to a computer terminal that was on, he tried to access the information on it. There was nothing.

The computer had been totally wiped. Whatever had been on it was gone. The mystery continued to evolve. Whoever those guys in the tactical gear had been, they’d taken all of the research data in addition to killing the scientists. There was a lot of white noise going on in his head and it was throwing him off balance. He fell to the floor and had to resume crawling in order to get around. Within the white noise though, he could hear a beeping noise coming from the next room. Slowly, painfully, he dragged himself towards the noise and it started to get louder and more persistent as he got there.

Grabbing the door frame, Joshua hefted himself up and made it to his knees. Just in time to make it into the next room, and realize that something else was very, very wrong. The containment fields were down. Everything in the room was being bathed in the radiation. Not good, not good at all. This caused more bile to come up to the surface and he puked again, falling down to the ground. It was then that he saw that one of the animal sections had been broken open.

Spiders were crawling on the ground, coming towards him. Scores of them, maybe even hundreds. They started to crawl on him, clearly finding him as a possible foe in the warped environment that the found themselves in.

Joshua Perry rolled over in his bed and groaned, as sunlight filtered through the blinds of his bedroom, urging him to wake up. But he didn’t want to wake up. He wanted to go back to sleep. Because there was pain through his body and he didn’t know why it was there. Suddenly, he shot up in his bed, looking around, trying to figure out what was going on. Something was wrong, something was..the building...in the building...the....His mind trailed off, as he looked around his room. How had he gotten here? The last thing he remembered, he had been in the Van Buren building, and there had been a radiation leak, and men in suits that had....Then there had been spiders...spiders everywhere.

He tried to rise out of his bed, and looked down in surprise as the sheets came with him. His hands had been bunched in them, and now the sheets were wrapped up in his hands. So he tried to let go.

And then realized that he couldn’t.

Joshua’s eyes widened and he started shaking his hands. Why couldn’t he let go of the sheets? Then his alarm clock started going off. He instinctively reached out to grab it, and then the craziest thing happened. Something shot out of his hands, through the sheets, and knocked into his alarm clock. The clock itself fell off the nightstand and turned on the radio. Spoon’s Got Nuffin started blaring in his bedroom, as he stared at the thin strands of....something that had shot out of his hands.

“Yeah...Got nothing.” He said.

He was not the same as he had been last night. Joshua scrambled to get the sheets off of him, and the strands started shooting more and more, randomly around his room. As he did this, he started breathing faster and faster, hyperventilating. What in the fuck was happening to him? What was going on?

He didn’t have time to worry about that though, since his doorbell had started to ring. Son of a bitch, this was perfect timing. Running out of his room, he burst into the main room of his apartment as Temperance and the kids walked in. “Uh...hey.” He said, trying to remain calm. “Hey.” He repeated. “Uh...good to see you.”

“Good to see you?” Temperance said, his sister’s face one of incredulousness. “Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?” She asked.

“Um...well...no.” He said, and tried for a sheepish smile.

“I’ve been trying to call you for hours. I thought you were there when...when...the place blew up.”

“I have...no idea what you’re talking about, Temp.” Joshua said.

Maggie walked over to his couch and grabbed his remote control, turning on the television. The whole family watched as the news team continued their reporting on the explosions that had destroyed the entire Van Buren building.

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. This was impossible. How could it have happened? It made no sense. Unfortunately, he could barely remember what had happened when he was there. Still trying to piece the memories together, Joshua did his best to move his family along. Convincing them that he was okay, he was able to get them to head out. Now he stood in his living room, looking at his hands. More confusing than the news reports was what was going on with him. That was definitely headline worthy material, if he was willing to talk about. Amazed that he wasn’t hyperventilating a bit, Joshua stood there, trying to make sense of it all. Joshua Perry was a smart guy. That was something that he’d been told throughout his life.

If only he was able to apply himself to what he was trying to do. That was something else that he’d been told throughout his life. He’d applied himself to stealing, fixing, and racing cars, and none of what he’d learned there could prepare him for this.

Moving his hands in a particular motion caused some type of material to shoot out of his wrists. As of yet, he could not determine where the material was coming from. But it was strong, and durable, that much was definitive. Furthermore, he could tell that the strands were able to be manipulated, that they could be pulled back towards him. Besides that, there wasn’t much that he could tell about them. Which brought him to the next change.

He felt different. Stronger, faster, sharper. When he’d been in prison, there hadn’t been much to do besides work out. His fair share, that was what he’d done, and he’d kept it up when he’d gotten out. But when he looked at himself in the mirror, he looked different. Like there was more. More muscle, more definition. How it had gotten there, well, that was another mystery that he didn’t have the answer to. Most confusing to him was what was going on with his feet and hands.

They seemed to stick to things for some reason. His ability to grasp things had increased, and when he walked, barefoot, it seemed as though his feet were sticky. The sensation was totally foreign and alien to him, and he wasn’t sure how to deal with it. Already, he’d tossed back two beers, trying to fathom what was happening to him. But no matter what happened, he knew that there was somewhere that he needed to go, because his life had totally changed and there was one place that he was going to be able to get answers. The place where he had been last night, the place that was completely destroyed according to the news reports.

He had to go to the Van Buren building.

Getting dressed had been a bit of a problem, especially since he’d had to clean up all the strands of...whatever it was that had littered his room. Getting changed, when he had a habit now of holding on to things when he wanted to let go, that was another thing that he had to learn how to do. It was like being a little kid and learning how to get dressed for the first time. He managed to do it and then he was in his car, driving through Chicago on his way to the Van Buren building. A route that had become so familiar to him after all these months, but a route that seemed so foreign to him for some reason.

Maybe it was because his eye sight had gotten exponentially better, and he could see the most minute details.

Or maybe it had been the tingling in the back of his head when some car was going to pull into his lane and cut him off, and he was able to hit the brakes faster than normal to avoid getting swiped. But that was easily explained. Joshua was a better driver than probably ninety percent of Chicago, with his background.

When he got there, he was in for even more of a shock, adding to the experiences of the day.

It was as if the building had been destroyed by a bomb. The shattered remnants of the Van Buren research building was all over the place. Too much damage for a simple fire. That was one of the first things that his eyes picked up on, the first thing that Joshua noticed. He parked the car and stepped out of it. Fire trucks and police cars dotted the area, and the people who usually drove or rode in them were all over the place. Immediately he felt a little less safe, due to his past history with the law. A gut reaction, and one that he tried to push away. He walked forward, and looked for a cop. Seeing one, he signaled that he wanted to talk.

“Hey, what’s going on?” He asked.

“Damn place burned down.” The cop replied, a thick Chicago accent.

“Last night?” Joshua asked. “I...I work here.” He said, his voice cracking a bit as he continued to look around, rubbing a hand over his mouth as he did.

“Well, now you don’t, buddy.”

Joshua gave a half hearted laugh. “Yeah, that’s for sure.” He said.

“Who the hell are you?”

Joshua turned at the sound of the voice. It was a man in plains clothes, probably a detective or something like that. Clamping down again on the gut reaction to keep his inner thoughts hidden, he reminded himself that he was supposed to be a model citizen now. He gave the detective a smile. “Joshua Perry, detective. Used to work here.” He said.

“I see. Elijah Schiffman.” The detective said, reaching out and shaking Joshua’s hand. “Used to work here, you say?” He asked, his voice modulating at the end of the sentence. “I may need you to come in for some questioning.” He added. “Should be easy to figure out, I think your schedule freed up a bit.”

“Not a problem.” Joshua said with a nod. “I have to ask you a question though, was there anyone in the building at the time of the fire?” He asked. “I mean, no one died, right?” He asked.

“A few people did. We’ve recovered human remains so far and we’re trying to ID them.” The cop said and Schiffman nodded. “Running what we can, but it’s going to take a little while to get it all done. Total of at least thirteen, fourteen bodies right now.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Jesus Christ is right.” Schiffman said. The Jew shook his head, pulling out a cigarette. “I think that we’re going to have to dedicate a lot of time to this. Van Buren building wasn’t big, but the people who owned it were pretty influential. They’re going to want to know what happened, especially since we can’t rule out an accident.” He said. “There were reports of a blast, and while it could have been something inside the building, we need more information.” He said.

“That’s where I come in.” Joshua said and the detective nodded, blowing smoke out. “Like I said, anything I can do to help. Anything at all.”

The detective reached into his pocket and gave him his card. “Call me later today, we’ll figure something out.”

Thanks to his knowledge of Chicago, the back areas and the run down places, Joshua had found a suitable place for what it was that he needed. What it was that he needed to do was figure out just what the hell was going on. He didn’t know what was happening with him, and he didn’t have anyone that he could speak to regarding this. So he’d found an older warehouse, that had been abandoned many years ago. It was run down and in shambles in a lot of places, but the key point that he had been looking for was that there weren’t a lot of people around. No one tried to poke their nose into the building, and no one tried to go in there. Well, no one, but him. Standing on the third floor of the building, Joshua had a lot of things that he had to worry about, but this was one of the most pressing matters in his life. After all, how could he go about doing what he needed to do, working to support himself, if he didn’t know what these powers, these abilities could do?

He looked out over the expanse that was before him. The warehouse was fairly large, and he had the space to do what he needed to do. Joshua bent his knees and after taking a deep breath, he then leapt up into the air. It was amazing, that his legs could propel himself so far and so fast. Almost coming naturally to him, he began to spin in the air, acrobatic as he moved. Joshua had never done a bit of that kind of stuff in his life. But now it seemed as if it was normal, as though he was breathing.

Connecting with one of the walls of the warehouse, on the total opposite side of where he had been when he had started, his stomach flipped, expecting him to hit the wall with force and bounce off, or slide off. Curiously, nothing happened. Though it seemed like voodoo magic, he stayed connected to the wall. Pulling one of his hands back, Joshua looked down at his hand, his eyes widening as he saw what appeared to be thousands of little, tiny, almost microscopic barbs that came out of his hand. They literally dug into the wall, allowing him to hold on.

Almost like a...

He pushed the idea out of his mind and placed his hand back on the wall. It stuck. The next thought that came to him seemed like a normal progression, so he freed his other hand and reached out. Soon he was crawling along the wall. He started to do flips along the wall, amazed that he could not fall down. This was amazing. It made him feel spectacular. And he still didn’t know what it was. Doing a backflip off the wall, Joshua landed on the ground, three floors below. His knees absorbed the impact as though nothing had happened.

From what he could tell so far, something had happened to his body that had enhanced his agility, his endurance, his muscle strength, his...well...his everything. So far, there didn’t appear to be any side effects, and there didn’t seem to be a limit to what he could do. He had already tried to lift the various heavy objects that had been left in the warehouse by the company that had abandoned it. There was nothing in the warehouse that he couldn’t lift. Somehow, he had managed to lift an excavator that had been in the warehouse, and that alone had boggled the mind. Nothing, however, had been as mind boggling as the material that he found himself able to shoot from his wrists. It literally made no sense to him.

What was it?

What could it do?

It seemed like webbing, like silken strands of webbing. He could pull himself with it, or he could pull things to him with it. Joshua had been experimenting with the webbing for a few hours now, and he couldn’t believe all the different things that he could do with it. Standing on the floor of the warehouse, he was about to leap again, when his phone started ringing. Checking his phone, he saw that it was the detective, Elijah Schiffman. Joshua had spoken to Schiffman, and the other man had said that he would be in touch to schedule an interview about the Van Buren building.

His car pulled into the parking lot outside of the precinct building. Joshua sat there, staring at the building. He hated police buildings. Every fiber in his body told him to bolt, to leave this place and not talk to the detective. Even though he knew that he had to, he didn’t want to be here. So many bad things had happened in his life involving the police. Trust was something that he didn’t have for the police. Despite knowing that he’d broken the law, and knowing that he had deserved to be punished, years of conditioning reared it’s ugly head. He didn’t want to be here, and his hand gripped the keys that were in the ignition. But then Joshua stopped, forcing himself to take the keys out of the ignition. His time in prison had made him a different person, and h knew what he had to do, even if he didn’t like it.

Getting out of the car, he shut the door and started walking towards the building. There were police officers outside and a number of them saw him. Most of them didn’t recognize him, but one or two did. Which meant that he got a few looks. It didn’t bother him. The Old Man had taught him to be better and had taught him to be a good man. This was just another chance to put into practice all of the things that he had been taught.

Opening the door, he walked inside before heading to the front desk. Asking where Detective Elijah Schiffman was, he got his directions and made his way over to the office. Knocking on the door, he waited, and when it opened, he saw the man that he was looking for.

“Mr. Perry, good to see you, please sit.” Elijah said, and indicated one of the chairs in the office.

It was sparsely decorated, it didn’t look like Schiffman was into frills. But it did look like he’d been eating lunch.

But the detective waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. I have to eat enough of it to make the wife think it’s good. It’s good, it’s just not the greatest, you know?” He said with a laugh. “Anyway, let’s talk.” He said. “What can you tell me about the Van Buren building?” He asked.

“It was a great place to work.” Joshua replied. “I loved my time there.” He added with a shrug. “The people were awesome, no complaints there. I don’t think anyone was really any malicious or anything like that.” He said.

“Why would you jump to malicious?” Elijah asked.

“Well, I know you’ve done your homework on me. You have to have.” Joshua said. “You know I’m an ex-con and that I ran the biggest auto theft ring in Chicago’s history.” He said. “So I’m telling you everything you want to know. The first thing you want to rule out is an arson or some kind of intentional incident.” Joshua said. “That way the investigation becomes cut and dry and simple. Makes your job a lot easier. Providing some kind of character details helps you.”

“You’re a smart guy.” Elijah said, leaning back in his chair. He pulled out his pack of cigarettes. He offered one to Joshua, who declined. As the room filled with acrid smoke, he spoke again. “Yeah, I looked you up. Couldn’t believe it was the same Perry. Your father was a legend and you managed to top him.” He said. “I would love to rule out an arson. But there’s a problem.” He said, before they were interrupted with the door opening.

Joshua turned as Elijah looked up to see a man in a black suit and tie ensemble step into the office. He looked out of place, if that was the terminology that Joshua could have used. The man looked, basically, as if he really didn’t want to be here, but that he had to because of something important. While everyone there, sans Joshua, was wearing a suit, this man looked as though he hadn’t been built for the suit. As if it barely contained him. He tried to put a smile on his face.

“Good morning, Detective.” He said.

“Uh, yeah, hi.” Elijah said. “Who might you be?”

“My name’s Burt. Benjamin Burt.” He said, and Elijah nodded.

“Well, Ben, I’m kind of in the middle of a meeting. Is there something that’s very pressing that it has to be addressed this moment?” He asked.

Benjamin nodded and handed over a file that he’d brought with him. He didn’t look at Joshua, giving Joshua the indication that the man was new to the office. Maybe that was it. But he couldn’t remember him or place him from anywhere. There was the beginnings of a tattoo that was just visible above the dress shirt’s collar, and Joshua recognized that. It was the tattoo of a fairly well known and extensive prison gang. So the man had seen time. Maybe he was trying to better himself, the same way that Joshua was. Maybe an ex-con who was trying to work in the police department? It happened. Not that often, but it did.

Elijah looked over the file and then shut it. He was quiet for a moment. “Joshua, it looks like this is going to be an interesting read for me.” He said, his voice low. “This actually is a matter of importance, and so I’m going to have to call our meeting a little short. Is that okay with you?” He asked.

“Any chance for me to get out of a police station sooner rather than later can’t be a bad thing.” Joshua said with a small grin and both men laughed. Burt didn’t join in, as he’d already turned around and walked out of the office.

“Thank you for your time, Joshua.” Elijah said, reaching a hand out.

The two shook hands.

“Not a problem.” Joshua said, rising.

“I’ll be in touch if there’s any news.” Elijah said. “Thank you, once again. I’m sure that we’ll be able to get to the bottom of all of this.”

Joshua nodded and walked out of the office. He started walking out of the precinct building, but when he got outside, he saw that Burt stood a few steps away, smoking. He gave the man a tight lipped smile and started to walk away, deciding that he was going to head back to the warehouse for a while.

Unfortunately, before he could do that, Benjamin Burt had walked over to him, and had taken him by the arm.

Joshua looked at Benjamin, with a confused look on his face. Who was this man? Considering what he had just done with Elijah and with the meeting that Joshua had been having with the police detective. Cocking his head to the side, he spoke. “What do we need to talk about?” He asked.

“A number of things.” Benjamin said, a with a small smile. “The rest of it can wait for the moment though. First off, we need to talk about what happened at the Van Buren building.” He said, putting on a pair of sunglasses as he spoke.

The look of confusion on Joshua’s face deepened. Just what in the world was going on? First things first. “Wait a minute, who are you?” He asked.

“I work for the same person that you do.” He said.

“I don’t work for anyone. Not anymore.” Joshua said with a saddened smirk. “The Van Buren building is gone, if you hadn’t noticed.” He said. “Someone burned it to the ground.” He said.

“Yeah, but let’s just say that we have a mutual friend in common.” He said and Joshua realized who he was talking about, what he meant. The look on Benjamin’s face changed a bit. “I know the Old Man too.” He said, as he started to walk. Well that certainly changed things a bit.

Joshua followed him as Benjamin walked into the police precinct parking lot. A few police offices passed them by, walking towards the entrance to the precinct. Joshua had his usual moment of tensing up, and he noticed that Benjamin did as well. That was all the confirmation that he needed that Burt did indeed work for the Old Man. The two of them had a similar past. Which meant that he would talk to the man and he would help him with his questions. “Alright, alright.” Joshua said. “Well, I guess we can talk and I can tell you what happened.” He said. “At least, I can tell you what I remember of it.” He said.

Benjamin stopped and then looked at him. “Wait, you were there?” He asked.

Joshua’s brows knit together. “Well, yeah, I was.” He said.

“I...I didn’t realize that.” Benjamin said, the look on his face changing slightly, to become a bit more apologetic. “I’m sorry that you had to see that firsthand. It had to be pretty traumatic. If you need a few days before you can talk about it, it’s okay. I understand.”

Joshua nodded. “If you need me to talk to you about that night, that’s fine.”

Benjamin was about to speak when there was a ringing as his cell phone went off. Reaching into one of his pockets, he took the phone out and answered it, holding up a finger towards Joshua. “Yeah, it’s Burt. I understand. Gotcha. No, no it’s fine.” He said, nodding along to the unseen speaker.

The warehouse was filled with product. Located in the South side of Chicago, there were about five trucks that were parked inside of the building, and they were unloading a number of different boxes, all of this being overseen by men with guns. They carried pistols, shotguns, even a submachine gun or two. The hardware that they were packing wasn’t the greatest; in fact, many of them had seen better days. But they stood where they were, and guarded the trucks, as if something was going to happen. Nothing did, however, and soon the trucks were empty.

A man walked into the warehouse, taking off sunglasses, as there was plenty of shade inside. He made his way over to on of the boxes and opened it up. There was computer equipment inside and he gestured to it, nodding.

Men that had followed him into the building got to work, unpacking the equipment and starting to set it up. Over the bustle of the work, the man stayed silent, watching everything. He turned when someone came up to him and coughed slightly. His eyes took in the much smaller, much more diminutive man who stood in front of him. “Mr Wexler.” He said, with a slight Hispanic accent. “You wish to be paid, I presume.” He said.

“Well, yes.” Neil Wexler said. “The equipment that you asked for wasn’t cheap. I don’t understand why you need it all, the business that you’re in.”

“Your lack of understanding is one thing that isn’t going to change, today.” The man said in reply, with a small smile. “Now, for payment, you wished for cash, and for the Latin Disciples to get off of your back when it came to your other work.” He said.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I asked for. You said you could deliver.” Wexler said.

“That I did.” The man replied with a knowledgeable nod of his head. “Your problems with the Latin Disciples are no more. As to the money, consider this, your payment.” He said, and reached out, opening a small briefcase that one of the other men had brought to him. “Two hundred thousand dollars, unmarked bills.” He said.

“That’s too much.” Wexler said, shaking his head. “I only asked for a hundred thousand. It’s not right to be paid more than you ask for.” He said.

The man’s head cocked to the side. “So you do not wish to accept the money?” He asked, and he waited, seeing Wexler’s face change. Obviously Wexler was fighting the temptation to accept the briefcase. He wanted to, that much was clear by the look on his face, and the beads of sweat that was coming over his forehead. “How about this,” the man said with a smile that reached all the way to his brown eyes. “You will take this money, and consider it a down payment on future services. Should my operation need to expand, you will be the first person I consider to purchase my supplies from.”

The look of relief on Wexler’s face was palpable. “Thank you.” He said. “I’ve heard stories about you, you know. They say that you’re one of the few honorable businessmen left, Mr. Cartagena.”

Edgar Cartagena smiled. “Well, if the stories are true, then that makes two of us.” He said, making Wexler smile like a kid on Christmas.

The black car moved with the traffic, cutting through it like a shark. It was nothing spectacular, just a Lincoln Town Car, though there had been extensive after market modifications to the vehicle. Suffice to say, its street legality could have been in question. But the man who sat in the back seat, in a black suit and a black striped tie, held no qualms that a fine member of the Chicago Police Department would stop him. On the list of things that were possible, it was there, but on the list of things that were probable, well, it wasn’t anywhere near the top ten. What was near the top ten, was that the car that he was in was going to transport him, sans issue, to his next meeting.

Edgar Cartagena was a reputable businessman, but his business was of ill repute. He liked the work that he did, and he conducted himself with a code of honor. Everyone who was in his organization had to abide by their leader’s code, and if he ever heard of someone who didn’t, they were politely asked to tender their resignation. However, what that translated to, was another murder in the annals of the Chicago Police Department’s Unsolved Cases.

This was yet another reason why they couldn’t waste the manpower on his car.

The work that he was in, currently, was a mix of different things. But currently, he was planning on dabbling into a little bit of murder. Murder was a useful thing, when carefully utilized. A simple murder was an under appreciated crime. The murder that was he was planning to commit was still in the works. Still in the cards, as it would seem. Whether or not it happened would depend on the actions of the person in question.

Neil Wexler was an honorable man when it came to business and he ascribed to something similar to Edgar’s code of honor. In addition to the computer equipment that he sold, he did a little bit of extortion and a little bit of narcotics. These illicit activities were nothing that were major, but enough to keep him comfortable. The Latin Disciples had been on a rampage, burning through various blocks of Chicago and taking over. Their network was extensive and that network had turned its sights on the neighborhood that Mr. Wexler called home.

As a result the man was being pushed out, and he had come to Edgar asking for help. He had heard that Edgar Cartagena was bringing his work to Chicago to set up a new base of operations and he wanted to help him, in exchange for getting rid of the Latin Disciples and the promise that he would be left in peace. It seemed like a reasonable set of requests. One of them, Edgar was planning on doing anyway. The Latin Disciples had to go, or at least be contained, if Edgar’s business was going to get done. As to the other, well, Edgar had no reason to bother Wexler.

The car came to a stop in front of the building. Edgar looked out of the window of the vehicle at the tall, high-rise building that he was parked next to.

Cartagena smiled as he delivered his words to the man across the table from him. It was a simple matter and the man in front of him had a choice to make. He could survive, and thrive, or he could perish. Others might have considered the choice hard with some utilizing the classical imagery of Scylla and Charybdis, but Cartagena was not one of those people. The choice was a luxury, given to the man because Edgar was an honorable man. He could have just walked in and shot this man in the face, calling it a day.

"This is ridiculous." The man across the table said. He was dressed in a suit that looked ill suited for his form. In truth the man in front of him was a capo or some kind of high-ranking leader within the Latin Disciples leadership. At least that was what Cartagena had been led to believe.

“What is so ridiculous about it?” Edgar asked, as he brought his fingers together and smiled. “You simply acquiesce to my demands and no one has cause for violence.”

“No one has cause for violence? Who the fuck do you think you are?” The man across the table asked, getting more agitated by the minute. He was starting to wave his hands around, as if dramatics was going to change the situation in his favor. It wasn’t.

“I think, that I’m speaking to the wrong man.” Edgar said, rising and buttoning his suit jacket as he rose. “You are supposed to be a leader within your organization, yes? Someone who can speak for others? You barely have the control to speak for yourself. Behavior like a child…this…this is not the way that men conduct business.” He shook his head with a forlorn look on hi face. “I am sorry that we could not work together. Perhaps in the future-“

“Perhaps in the future, when I see you on the streets, I’ll show you who’s in charge.”

Edgar nodded slowly. “You may be right.” He said with a laugh. Then he moved with speed that the other man would have considered impossible, and he was over the table, holding the man by the collar of his shirt. “Then again, perhaps in the future, I’ll teach you proper manners, such as never interrupting a man when he’s talking.” He looked behind him as men came into the room, some of them holding pistols.

Edgar produced a silence pistol from his suit jacket pocket. With a simple smile on his face, he started firing. “You see, I didn’t want to hurt these men, and their blood is on your hands. You forced me to act in a manner incongruent with my nature, and for what? For a few moments of being inconsiderate and rude. Such a shame, such a waste.” He said, shaking his head, and looking at his handiwork.

All of the men in the room save for the leader that he still had his stranglehold on, were dead.

Cars had surrounded the building. The men and women who had gotten out of the cars had blue and white flags on their bodies, with four six pointed red stars emblazoned in the middle of the stripes. The men and women who made up the Second City’s police department. The news crews were losing their minds, talking about the man who had seemingly thrown himself through a window up on a very high floor on a very high up building. The jumper had been wearing a suit, but it was obvious by his build and the tattoos that had been on him, that he was not a businessman or any form of professional that wore a suit.

It hadn’t take long for them to focus on some of the tattoos and identify them.

A high up in one of Chicago’s deadliest gangs.

“This isn’t good.” One of the guys in the room said.

“No fucking shit, retard.” Another, Ricardo “Nine-Ball” Estevez said, from the couch. “What the fuck was he doing there, anyway?” He asked. “He’s going to get the whole building locked up.”

“He was meeting with someone.” A quiet voice said. Some of the guys in the room turned and looked at the speaker. He was one of the newer guys in the organization, and he wasn’t that well versed with all of the members and all of the names. He was here, in this high level safe house, because of that fact, so that he could do the menial work that they required around the place. “He was meeting with someone regarding a deal. I never got the name of the guy that he was meeting with. Not the full name, he just called him Cartagena.”

One of the guys got a confused look on his face. “Name wasn’t Edgar was it?” He asked, and a few of the others got uneasy too.

“Yeah, that was it!” The new guy said.

“Shit.” Nine-Ball replie

“What’s so crazy about this Edgar Cartagena guy?” The new guy asked.

“Because his real name is Blac-“

“Don’t say it.” Nine-Ball said to the one who had been about to speak. “Nobody says that name in this room. This guy just killed T-Real. We’re gonna bring him down, I don’t care who the fuck he is.” Nine-Ball said. “Call the others. We’ve got to find out where he is.”

The rest of the group started moving, Nine-Ball being the ranking member in the room. The new guy went up to another one of the guys in the room.

“Who’s this Edgar Cartagena? How is that not his real name?” He asked.

Joshua was up at night, watching television. His classes were going fine, and he had a great deal of free time on his hands now. He had spoken to that Benjamin Burt guy, telling him everything that he knew about what had happened at the Van Buren building. Though he wasn’t sure why, Joshua hadn’t told him about what had happened afterwards, all of the things that he had discovered about himself. For some reason, Joshua just wasn’t sure that he could fully trust the man, as if there was something shady going on. Burt had had a visible response to the fact that Joshua had not only been in the building when the event had happened, but that he had had made it out alive.

Something was going on, but Joshua had been told to wait. He had been told that someone from the Old Man’s organization would be getting in touch with him, and that he wasn’t to talk to the cops about anything. The last part wasn’t anything new to Joshua. He’d been raised with the code of silence growing up. Everyone he’d grown up with had known to keep their mouths shut.

Rummaging through his kitchen, Joshua saw that he had forgotten to grab snacks when he had gone grocery shopping recently. Just his luck. With a sigh, he left his apartment, grabbing the keys to his second hand Mustang. He had been considering putting in some work on the vehicle, but now that his job had been yanked from under him, Joshua had decided to save all his money. Especially since he didn’t know if something was going to happen to the five grand deposited monthly into his account. He didn’t doubt the Old Man’s ability; it was, yet again, something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

The drive was quick, and Joshua flipped up the hood on his jacket. Chicago was starting to get colder, and they didn’t call it the Windy City for nothing. Shutting his car door, Joshua walked towards the front door of the convenience store. All he saw was images of Doritos in his future. But that image was rudely changed into something else.

A man came running out of the store, holding a brown paper bag. But that wasn’t what Joshua focused on. No, his eyes grabbed hold of the .38 caliber revolver that the man had in his other hand. Their eyes briefly met, and Joshua had to move out of the way in order to not get run over by the guy. When he turned back towards the front of the store, he saw the worker come out, yelling something in some foreign language. Probably Chinese or Korean.

“Help me!” The guy said, switching to English and pointing. “Please, that’s everything in the register!” He said.

Joshua turned and saw the guy running down the street, feet smacking the pavement as he did. People were getting out of the way for him, not that there were that many on the street at this time of night.

He’d never understand why he did what he did next. Joshua had long been trying to change his life and change his ways. Edmund Dantes wouldn’t have let the robber go. Maybe that was the thought that had flashed in his mind, and he’d been yanked back to when he’d read all those books in prison.

Whatever it was that caused him to do it, Joshua took off after the robber.

There had been a number of changes to his body recently. Joshua had never been great at running, but now he found himself moving faster than he ever had before. It was the strangest thing, and soon he found himself close to where the would-be robber was. The other man was waving around the .38 caliber revolver that he had, as he ran through the brisk Chicago night. No concept of being low-key and trying to fly under the radar. The former criminal in Joshua was appalled at the man’s lack of strategy about his robbery attempt. Focusing on the task at hand, Joshua saw that the robber had stuffed the money into a backpack that he was holding, not carrying, and Joshua decided that this was as good a time as any to try out what he’d been working on in the abandoned warehouse. Reaching out, he did the weird hand motion.

The unknown material shot forward from his wrist, and latched onto the robber’s ankle. He paused for a brief moment of sheer amazement, something that he was constantly doing when it came to these changes in his body. Joshua yanked back as he continued to run forward, and the man fell flat on his face. A swift kick to the revolver sent it scraping along the sidewalk, far out of reach of the man on the ground.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Joshua said, turning slightly, so the hood that he was wearing partially obscured his face. He’d grown up long enough on the streets of Chicago to know that if you were going to do something right, you never let them see your face. He didn’t know if this guy was connected or just some street punk. Though it made sense to think that he wasn’t, what with how stupidly he had conducted this robbery. Rob a place, without a mask, then just run down the street like an idiot? While waving a pistol around?

Chicago cops were stupid a lot of the time, but they weren’t that stupid.

Either way, it was better not to take the chance, considering a lot of the crime world in Chicago knew his face.

“Fuck you, guy.” The man said, fingers dragging along the sidewalk as he tried to get up.

“Stay down.” Joshua said, bringing his foot down into the man’s back, both knocking him down again and knocking the wind out of him. “I’m letting you off the hook,” he said, reaching down and grabbing the backpack, “but I can’t let you keep this money.” He also shot a strand of the material and pulled the revolver to him. “I should keep this for safety reasons too. I don’t want you getting any ideas.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” The guy asked, trying to get up again.

“Just a guy trying to fix some of the mistakes in the world.” Joshua said. He’d told the man to stay down and he hadn’t. This time, the kick found the side of the man’s head. Reaching into the man’s pocket, he found his cell phone and emergency dialed 911, dropping the phone next to the unconscious man, before he turned and started walking away.

Joshua was in the warehouse that he had found and was pacing around the floor. Why had he done that? There was no reason for him to intervene. No sane person would have done what he had done. So why had he done it? He shook his head as he walked around the warehouse, trying to make sense of everything. Obviously, the store owner had needed help, and Joshua had been in a position to be able to help, but that didn’t mean that he had to help. It wasn’t that he had to help, he realized. It was that he should help. Anyone who had the ability to help, yes, they shouldn’t be forced to, but morally, ethically, in a way the obligation was there.

He had the ability. Oh yes, he had the power. Looking down at his hands, Joshua flexed, making a fist. Muscles bunched in his forearm that he was fairly certain he’d never seen before, and that was strange, considering how much he had worked out when he had been in prison.

But it raised the question of whether or not this was something that he could realistically do. He was just learning about these powers and what his limits were. As if on cue, he shot a strand of webbing from his wrist that shot out and connected with one of the walls. Jumping from the ground, Joshua tumbled through the air, in a complex series of acrobatics and suddenly he was sticking to the wall. Pushing off, he backflipped back down to the ground.

What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t do anything that could put his sister and his nieces in danger. That was something he was unchangeable on. It meant that he needed to have a way to disguise himself, so that people couldn’t see that it was Joshua Caleb Perry who was helping them. Oh God, he was really thinking about this, wasn’t he? Joshua closed his eyes, trying to think of why he was actually willing to go through with this. If he was being honest with himself, he knew that it had to do with the books that the Old Man had made him read when he had been in prison.

The books had shown him a better way of living and talking with the Old Man had done that as well. He knew that if he had the power to help that he should help. By lucky stroke of fortune, Joshua had been blessed with these gifts. It was only right of him to try to find a way to help others who found themselves in bad straits. That was the moment for him, when he decided that he was going to dedicate himself to helping people. Chicago had suffered a lot because of what he had done in the past.

He’d run a car theft ring. He’d run an underground race car circuit. He’d smuggled drugs in the trunks of his cars for organized crime. Angela Mancini had had a point during the trial. Joshua Perry had not been a good person, he had not been a productive member of society. Though he had paid his dues to society, Joshua didn't feel as though the proper penance had been paid. In his mind, he owed it to the people whose lives he had damaged in the past with his actions. Change was something that he was going to bring to the streets of Chicago.
Change that the people could believe in.

But first, he was going to need a mask, and that raised an interesting question.

Joshua had checked his bank account balance and after working over his budget, he had a decent amount of money that he could use to buy equipment and the different things that he would need. He wasn’t even sure what he would and wouldn’t need, but Joshua figured that he’d pick that stuff up as he went along. But fact of the matter was that he would need to get a job at some point. There was another separate account that took care of his tuition and for that, he was well set. Joshua had enough money there to take of everything until he graduated.

If push came to shove, he could withdraw from that account, to float. But he wanted to avoid that as much as possible.

He was in the warehouse again, which he had also looked into. It was abandoned, and it wasn’t actually owned anymore. The city of Chicago had taken ownership of it after someone had defaulted, buying it from the bank back during the Recession. Now they were holding on to it, and it didn’t look like anyone was interested in it. However, he had seen it listed on a city auction site, so maybe it was possible that he could buy it. They weren’t asking for much, and Joshua doubted that the price would rise that much higher. After all, it had been listed numerous times, and no one had ever bid on it.

It would only set him back about twenty thousand dollars, and he could take that hit. The Old Man had looked out for him; after Joshua had proven to him that he could make the changes in his life that the Old Man had told him were necessary. That was another part of all of this that Joshua was doing, he wanted to make the Old Man proud. The man had told him not to visit him after he got out, but that he would speak to him through proxies. People like the man who had been in charge of the Van Buren building, Mr. Kessler. Now, he had met a man named Benjamin Burt, who apparently had some kind of connection to the Old Man.

What connection that was, Joshua didn’t know. He also didn’t know why Burt had been so interested in talking to him about the Van Buren building, after Joshua had told him that he had been there. He was certain that he’d find out sooner or later, that was definite.

The mask that he had gotten, it seemed like it would do the trick. He already had dark clothing and he knew how to dress to pull off crime. Now he would be dressing the same way in order to stop crime. The years of learning the streets and how they behaved and the rules and laws of the concrete jungle, all of that would help him. It was ironic, to say the least. He was the perfect criminal and that was made him the perfect person to fight crime.

Joshua sat in the living room of his small apartment, looking down at the mask in his hands. It was all black and a part of him knew that it wasn’t enough. He needed something better, something more suitable. It was going to have to do for now. The black glossy eyes stared back at him.

Joshua wasn’t sure why he was being called back to the precinct. But he sat in the room, quietly, as he waited. He wasn’t in Elijah’s office, but was in one of the meeting rooms. He hadn’t been asked to wait in an interrogation room, which was something that he appreciated. Hopefully it meant that he wasn’t there for any kind of actual questioning. Still, the worry was starting to creep up on him. It wasn’t as if Joshua was ever comfortable in police precinct buildings. Never had been, and he probably never would be.

Rifling a hand through his dirty blonde hair, Joshua looked around the room, starting to fidget. The room itself was fairly large, dominated by a table and a few chairs. Sitting in one of the chairs, he looked out of the textured glass widows that were on three sides of the room, save for the wall that was the actual side of the building. This was a waste of his time. Joshua had been waiting for Elijah for almost fifteen minutes now. If not Elijah, then someone, anyone.

Just as he started to get up, he saw someone walking towards the door. Though he couldn’t tell who it was, he could tell that it was a man, and from the overall shape, it looked like it was Elijah. With a sigh, Joshua dropped back into his chair.

He held up his hands in mock exasperation as Elijah walked in.

The detective smirked as he saw the motion. “Calm down, man, calm down.” He said. “I know, I had to keep you waiting, sorry about that.” He said.

“You know I hate police buildings.” Joshua said with a small smile. In the short amount of time that he had known Elijah Schiffman, he had felt that he could trust the man and that Schiffman wasn’t like most cops or detectives.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” The detective said, dropping into the chair across from Joshua. “We’ve had some developments in the Van Buren arson.” He said.

“So you guys are definitely thinking arson?” Joshua asked.

“We haven’t ruled it out.” He replied. “So far, like you said, the malicious aspect has been hard to find. DA is up my ass to figure this out. There’s a lot of pressure from outside sources, especially the parent company and their lawyers.” Elijah said, with a heavy sigh. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cigarettes. Offering one again to Joshua, who again declined, Elijah shrugged as he lit up, and blew out some smoke.

“Lawyers.” Joshua said with a grimace. “Only group of people who I think I dislike more than cops.” He said.

“I won’t mention that I’m at John Marshall, doing their part time program.” Elijah said.

“You know, I was really starting to like you. But now? Can’t say you’re endearing yourself to me.” Joshua said.

“Well, wait till you meet this real lawyer. Broad was giving me an earful in my office. It’s why I was late. She’s one of the lawyers for the Van Buren parent company, and she wants to talk to you. Nothing too crazy, just a few questions.” Elijah said.

Joshua would have tensed up.

Except that he tensed up to the point that he had only done once prior in his life, as she walked in.

The woman walked into the room and immediately it turned into an interrogation room. She was wearing a heather gray suit, and a white dress shirt. Placing her case on the floor, she sat down across from Joshua, and brushed away at unseen dust on the table, before looking up and finally making eye contact with him.

“Here we are, again.” Angela Mancini said.

Joshua caught Elijah’s look of confusion as he continued to smoke his cigarette in one of the corners behind the female lawyer. “Ms. Mancini was the District Attorney on the case that put me behind bars for five years.” He said, explaining to Elijah, and the detective nodded, slowly.

“It makes sense now. So she’s why you don’t like lawyers.” Elijah said with a wry smile, and Joshua’s face changed. He had been holding Angela’s penetrating gaze, but now he full on turned in his seat and looked at the other man, almost begging him to shut the hell up. Elijah for his part, just raised his hands with a don’t shoot gesture, as Angela closed her eyes, and smirked, accompanied by a slight shake of the head as the words processed.

“I’ve found that most criminals, especially felons convicted of being behind the biggest grand theft auto ring in Chicago history while also trafficking in drugs for a local drug cartel, they usually don’t like lawyers.”

Joshua couldn’t help himself, he bitingly laughed. “There’s more than one convict that fits that description? I thought I was unique, that I was something special. I think you actually said that in your closing statements there, Counselor.” He said. He was unable to resist falling back into the Joshua Perry of before the Stateville Correctional Center, the man who had been a sarcastic asshole.

“Oh trust me, Joshua, you’re one of a kind.” Angela said.

“So you left the DA’s office?” He asked as she opened up her case and started taking papers out.

“Yes. I’m with Mayer, Ingram, and Rogers now.”

“Mayer, Ingram, and Rogers? MIR? What kind of idiot comes up with that name?” He asked, rhetorically. “Look at you, a big lawyer now, not a DA anymore. You probably clear like one eighty, maybe two twenty, easy, right?” He asked, and Elijah had to note the change in body language and demeanor demonstrated by Joshua. The man seemed to ooze confidence and cockiness now. Not that he hadn’t before, but it had always been tempered, held in check. “Things really have changed.” He said.

“Not really.” Angela replied, looking up at him from her papers and notepad. “You’re still a convicted felon, and you’re linked to a major crime in the city of Chicago, and here we are, across the table from each other, and I’m getting ready to get the truth out of you, for once. Looks like things really haven’t changed.” She said and his face changed.

“Wait a minute. I had nothing to do with what happened. I just worked there. Nobody told me I was being charged with arson.” He said, looking between Angela and Elijah. “You can’t even charge me, you’re not part of the DA’s office anymore.” He said, looking back at her.

“Well, why don’t we talk about what happened, and then you let me decide what you did and didn’t do.” She said and then looked slightly over her shoulder. “Detective, you can leave.”

“Wait a second.” Joshua said, raising his hand and shaking it back and forth. “I don’t think so. You can’t talk to me, with that-“ He said, pointing at the tape recorder she was pulling out of her case, “-that? Really?” He asked. “I’m no lawyer here, Angela, but I don’t think that’s quite legal. Still too used to being a District Attorney, aren’t you?” He asked.

“This isn’t a deposition.” She retorted. “You don’t have to answer me. But whatever you do tell me, I will record, so you can’t try to backtrack out of it afterwards.” Angela said, shaking her head, with a look that clearly stated that she didn’t trust him at all. “Besides,” she added, “what do you know about due process?” She asked.

“Enough to know that you’re going to break it, assuming I did anything wrong.” He said and smirked. “You know, I did do a little reading during the trial. I thought about going pro se.” He said, with a slight bit of pride in his voice.

“Reading the Constitution does not mean that you can go pro se, Joshua. It’s a little bit more complicated than that.” She replied, a mild air of superiority in her voice as she did.

“Why not?” He asked. “Sixth Amendment says I can and Faretta v. California backs it up.”

She rolled her eyes. “Iowa v. Tovar established there was no preset formula for determination, only that they volunteer and seem intelligent enough for self-representation. You…You only have your G.E.D., right?” She asked, cocking her head to the side and giving him a sly smile. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but you don’t strike me as a guy who would have the ability to hold their own against a trained lawyer who has had multiple years of trying cases and a ninety seven percent conviction rate, without having to use plea downs.”

“I had the intelligence to be behind the biggest grand theft auto ring in Chicago, didn’t I?” He asked, gesturing, and Elijah gave a chuckle, drawing the ire of Mancini. The detective shrugged when she looked over her shoulder and gave him a dagger stare. “Your words, not mine. But if a piece of paper is what you respect, then I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough that I’m a registered student with the University of Chicago. Maybe once I graduate, I’ll apply for their law program.” Joshua said, drawing her attention back to him.

If there was any kind of surprise on her face, Angela covered it well. It was almost impossible to tell that there was any reaction to it. But then again, she had to maintain her composure in front of witnesses and criminals during trial and cross-examination, so it made sense. “Good school.” She said. “Top ten in the country. I went there.”

“We’d be one happy alumni family.” He said and placed his hands on the table, rising up. “As it stands, you don’t have a warrant and you’re not charging me. Elijah doesn’t think I have anything to do with it and you can only prove I was there because I said I was there, not because there are any records of me being there that night. The place burned down. So why would I self-incriminate. You can’t make me stay here or force me to talk. I’ll see you when I see you, Angela.” He said and started walking for the door.

She didn’t respond until his fingers had grasped onto the handle. The new barbs that he was still trying to learn about in his hand dug into the fake metal, as if they themselves knew he wanted to get out and get away from her. By the time he got outside, Joshua was shaking a bit and his breath was raggedy.

Angela Mancini knew how to get to people. She knew how to get to him more than others, and she could mess with him better than anyone else he had ever met. That woman was dangerous and he never wanted to see her again. But in back of his mind, he knew, this was only the beginning.

Joshua shook his head, standing in the kitchen of his sister’s house, his sister holding plates from the dinner that everyone had just shared. He had his hands plunged into dishwater, and Temperance added the plates in her hand to the pile. The dirty look that he gave her brought no response.

“You never wanted to do the dishes when we were younger. I’m getting you back for all the years.” She said with an innocent shrug that he knew was anything but that at all.

“That’s because you’re used to the lawyers trying to stick it to you.” She said, rolling her eyes. “You need help in this, you can’t do it by yourself.” She added, poking him in the shoulder. “You want the insurance company trying to blame you? Imagine if it was a lawyer like that Mancini lady?” Temperance asked.

“Wouldn’t that be great?” Joshua said, dryly. He had yet to tell his sister just who the lawyer was that was so interested in what had actually happened at the Van Buren building. He had yet to tell her about the other interesting developments that had been happening to him lately. But he wasn’t sure which of the two would go over worse. The fact that it was Angela God damn Mancini gunning for him, or the fact that something was very wrong with his biology?

“I hate that lady, she’s such a bitch.” Temperance said.

“She was doing her job.” Joshua said, as he finished the dishes. “I can’t be angry with her.” He said.

The look that Temp gave him was almost comical, in how shocked she was. He almost laughed, as he grabbed a hand towel to dry his hands off. “How the hell not? She didn’t have to go after you the way she did.”

He shook his head. “It was her job, when she was in the DA’s office.”

The look on her face changed.

“What do you mean, it was her job? She’s still in the DA’s office, isn’t she?” Temperance asked.

He paused.

“What aren’t you telling me?” She asked.

“Nothing, I read somewhere in the paper that she left the DA’s office, that’s all.” Joshua said, wincing on the inside. He didn’t like lying to his sister.

After all, he had done that so often back in the day and it was one of the things that the Old Man hated. Lying was for the weak. It meant that you were too cowardly to own up to the truth. When you lied, you may convince the person you’re lying to of what you’re telling them. But at the same time you were telling yourself that you didn’t think you were strong enough to deal with the repercussions of your actions.

He refused to go back to his old ways of doing things. Joshua Perry was a changed man.

Walking through the hallway of his floor of the apartment building, Edgar Cartagena took stock of the past few days. Since he had had words with those members of the Latin Disciples, Cartagena had heard no further complaints from Neil Wexler. He had upheld his end of the bargain, and one of his two forms of payment to the man who supplied his growing organization. The move had served two purposes, helping a supplier and clearing some of the rabble from the streets. He stopped in front of the elevator, waiting for the doors to open.

Absconding from the building with nary a look from the police had been a difficult challenge, but one that Edgar had relished undertaking. Rather miffed by the presence of the news cameras, he had hoped to complete his tasks there without anyone knowing but then again he also hadn’t planned on firearms going off as well. You took the good with the bad, and at least he had been able to deal with the Latin Disciples. He hadn’t heard a peep from them since everything had happened.

When the doors opened later, he was stepping out into the lobby of the building, located in the wealthy section of the Loop in Chicago. It was the weekend, which meant that a lot of downtown Chicago would be dead, devoid of people. The Loop truly did rely on the commuting worker. His car was across the street, waiting for him. Edgar’s movements were crisp and calculated as he started to cross the street. But then he slowed, as his eyes took in the scene before him.

There were people watching him.

He could feel the eyes on him, and he could tell that the few people on the streets, who appeared to be going about their business on a Saturday morning, were actually there for a much different, much more sinister reason. He turned towards the car, where his driver was waiting. The look on the man’s face belied nothing. There was never going to be the option for the man to do anything else, as the car spiraled upwards into the air, propelled by an explosion that consumed the car in a bath of fire.

Edgar’s instinctive motion was to take a step backward, back onto the side walk. His next motion was to start looking at everyone around him, and he saw two of the men across the street produce small caliber pistols.

The Latin Disciples had returned to exact some form of vengeance for what he had done to their member. How they had found him, he was unsure of, but he would soon find out. After all, he doubted that any of the men coming after him today were going to be successful where many others had failed. He was Edgar Cartagena, the Black Tarantula.

As the bullets started to fly, he ducked down behind a parked car. Luckily for him, Cartagena didn’t travel far without a firearm of his own. His FN Herstal FNP-357 was loaded and ready to go and he started to return fire. This was turning into a firefight he didn’t want. Anything that was going to attract the Chicago police department was not something that Edgar was interested in. He preferred moving in the shadows and this was counter to everything that he wanted to have happen.

Edgar crouched, looking at the ground. There was an ant that was stumbling along the way on the concrete floor. As there weren't many other ants in the room, or in the warehouse at all, Edgar knew that this little creature was lost. He didn't know where to go, what to do, how to return to his friends. Wetting his index finger with his tongue, he drew a small circle around the ant. When it came in contact with the line, the ant recoiled, unsure of what to do. Moving in another direction, its journey again stopped, until the ant realized it was trapped. Edgar smiled, slowly, before pressing into the ant's body with that same index finger, until the ant was crushed.

Remaining crouched, he looked up. Sitting on a small cot, and chained to the wall was a man who had a look of fear on his visage. He knew something was going to happen to him. Something that wasn't good. Something he couldn't look forward to. Edgar smiled at the man. The man was the only living member of the Latin Disciples who had attacked him in the streets of downtown Chicago. The rest had been dispatched. Let the police worry about them now.

Edgar's eyes moved around the corner of the room the other man was in, dancing around him, but never resting on him. A soft laugh, almost a chuckle, as if he had remembered something funny someone had told him long ago. He closed his eyes, whistling softly, his fingers dancing on an ethereal piano unseen by the naked eye.

The chains started to make a noise, rustling as the unnerved prisoner fidgeted. His attention, his eyes were squarely on Edgar, and not the two tall, brutish men behind him, each carrying a submachine gun. His gaze was riveted on the man wearing a black suit, with a dark gray shirt, and a dark blue tie. Cap toed black oxfords shifted as Edgar, his eyes still closed, looked to follow the melody that only he could hear, that only he could appreciate. The whole experience was creepy and unnerving.

The man, shaking slightly now, looked Edgar square in the face.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"What am I doing?" Edgar asked back, his eyes still closed, his fingers dancing in the air. "I'm playing along to the melody of your torture." He said. “Torture isn’t always a physical thing. It can be a mental thing too. An emotional thing. It is definitely something that we’re going to discover. Together.” His eyes opened, slowly, lazily finding the other man's own. "You're going to tell me what I want to know. You have a choice, undoubtedly, but both choices end up with me getting what I want." He said.

"What do you want to know?" The man asked.

Edgar smiled, languidly rising and stretching. "Before I give you my questions, I need to tell you that we're playing by a particular set of rules." Edgar said. "If you answer my questions and answer truthfully, I will allow you to leave, unharmed. Once I confirm the veracity of your answers, once their truthfulness has been ascertained, of course. I'm not a monster."

"You shot my brother's head off."

Edgar shrugged offhandedly. "That is true. But admittedly, he was attempting to do the same to me." He said. "Now, I only hurt those who attempt to hurt me. You were trying to hurt me, but I can overlook that, as it is beneficial for you to remain alive at this junction. Do you understand what I'm saying? The terms that I've given you?"

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"Really, you can't. But you know what my name is? The name I am called, not the one my mother gave me when I was spit forth into this world?" He asked, and when the man nodded, Edgar smiled. "So that's points in my favor, so to speak. Are you ready?" He asked.

With efficiency of movement, Edgar went about his routine. He had gotten the information required out of his canary and now he was dressing for a meeting. There was a part of him that was sure that this meeting would go the same route as his previous attempt. The Latin Disciples that he had tried to converse with prior had been rather rude to him, and that had dictated the response meted out to them. Now that they knew he meant business, there was a hope that they would properly respond to his entreaties. One could hope. Hope was something that Edgar had in great abundance when it came to this issue he was bringing to the table with the Latin Disciples.

After all, he had originally merely pitched to the supposedly high up member he had been speaking with that they, the Latin Disciples, take Mr. Wexler off the list of people whom they attempted to gain their lucre from. This arrangement had not been suitable to the man, if Edgar could have called him that, he had been speaking to. Instead, his offer of preemptive truce had been met with ridicule and rudeness.

This was not tolerable.

Now, it seemed as if Edgar was embroiled in a war. No doubt this organization considered it as such. One does not garner a foe such as one capable of what Edgar had already done and not consider oneself to be in dire circumstances. The situation was unfortunate, however, because the Latin Disciples while considering themselves in a war did not realize or know, yet, that they were in a war they could not win.

Edgar adjusted the dark gray tie he wore as he looked at his reflection. A white suit with a gray check pattern, the white dress shirt was a good canvas for the dark gray tie to splash against. He ran fingers through his curly hair, as he stared into the pits of his eyes. When he had been growing up, raised by Carlos LaMuerto, his adopted father had been strict in raising Edgar according to the code that he followed. Part of that code had been knowledge of the Bible.

Matthew 6:22-24 taught that the eye is the lamp of the body. One draws light into the body through the eyes and light shines out to the world through the eyes. Edgar stared into the depths of his eyes. His eyes were well and showed him what was true. Thus, his whole body was filled with light. He knew he was right and he knew he was righteous.

“Sir, the car is ready.”

He turned from his reflection, from the floor to ceiling mirror in his apartment towards one of the men who worked for him. A small circle of people there was only a small list of people that Edgar truly trusted. Trust was a difficult thing to curate after all. He nodded, walking over to a table.

“Good. I will be there shortly.” He said, while looking at the table.

On it was a small ornate box. Opening the lid, he looked at the two pistols inside. Two Star Model 1931 pistols, intricately embellished and carved, they were from the Spanish Civil War. Gifts, given to his father and passed from father to adopted son. Edgar only used them in times of extreme respect, and times of true honor. One did not want to sully the history of the firearms with trivial deaths, useless aggression, or senseless violence.

This war, it was going to end quickly, but if it had to end in violence, it was most assuredly going to be ended with only a few shots.